Taiyoukai's Butterfly
by Britedark
Summary: She was the butterfly to his immortality: the short-lived flower, that blooms a few days, then fades and dies. Yet, it is she who is left alive, with a hanyo son. Bits & pieces about Izayoi. #9: To Be A Warrior - Young Inuyasha has a new interest.
1. Without Him

**_**Disclaimer:**_**_ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied. _

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><p>This is the start of a new collection, of bits and pieces about Inuyasha's mother, Izayoi. Who was this woman, whom we only glimpse in flashbacks? The woman who birthed Inuyasha, who gave him his human blood and his human heart, who raised him during those critical early years. The woman who could catch the eye and heart of a near-immortal taiyoukai. This Izayoi...<strong><br>**

**Without Him**

Her snow-chilled feet were not as cold as her heart.

She could not but look back as she heard the distant roar of the collapsing roof. It took all of her strength not to cry out in grief, to join her wails to the hanyo squirming in her arms.

This wasn't how it had been meant to be. She was the butterfly; the flower that blooms and fades in days. She had known that she would age and die, leaving father and son to go on without her.

Instead, it was he who had died. He who had sacrificed his life to save hers and the newborn babe's. The great and powerful youkai lord to whom she had pledged her love, for whom she had turned her back on family and all that was considered right and proper.

And now, she was alone, bereft of his strength and protection.

Inuyasha wailed more loudly.

Izayoi's lips firmed. She turned her back on the valley below, closing her mind to thoughts of grief. She pulled the red robe draped over her head and shoulders closer, tucking a fold around the fussing infant. Immediately, his wails dropped to subdued whimpers, as the robe seemed to grow warmer. She felt him trying to move closer to her, his whimpers changing in tone. Fumbling under the warm, protective cloth, she managed to pull back the front of her yukata, freeing a breast. The infant was quick to find the nipple and clamp on. She winced for the pain of his byte, then breathed out the ache, turning slightly to face the path before her.

Her lord had given everything to return her to life, and insure the life of their child. Their dreams and plans were ashes in the wind, but she would not yet surrender hope to those arrayed against the very idea of love between human and youkai. The journey that she now faced would be filled with those who despised and scorned her for the choices she had made: who would despise and hate the innocent babe in her arms.

But, no matter. She would not cavil, she would not despair; she would not give in. For the memory of her lord, for the love he had found within himself to give to her: for the heart-quaking sacrifice he had made; she would never give in. For the sake of the infant who blended two worlds, two ways of knowing, in his blood, she would struggle, she would fight. Inuyasha was her child, her choice, her responsibility, to protect and raise.

She would not fail.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This piece was written for the LiveJournal community InuYasha FanFiction, for the prompt 'Journey'. It was originally published on July 31, 2011. It has been nominated for 'Best Short-Short' for the second trimester 2011 contest held by the Inuyasha FanGuild community. (10/18/2011)


	2. At the Gates

This chapter was moved to the short story "Izayoi's Return." This text replaces the original text, to keep links on other sites to various chapters of this collection from being broken. Text is moved because of the site requirements that stories not be duplicated.


	3. Old Aquaintance

**_**Disclaimer:**_**_ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied. _

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><p><strong>Old Acquaintance<strong>

A sneeze announced Inuyasha's return. "Oh, momma! That stuff is so stinky!"

Izayoi set aside her ink brush, glancing at the pair of high-stemmed braziers burning herbs as well as providing heat and light against the early dark of the winter day. "I'm sorry, dearest," she said. "I didn't expect you back yet. Is everything all right?"

The half-drooped ears perked, and the boy grinned as he bounced to her side. "I got a new friend!"

She gave him a startled look. "A friend? Who—?"

"He's a flea youkai. Look!" Inuyasha extended his fist and then opened it. "Hey! Where'd he go?"

"I really prefer not to be squashed, master Inuyasha," came a tiny voice from the top of the boy's head. Izayoi gasped, paling.

"Myoga?" she whispered.

He hopped to the index finger of the hand she extended. "Yes, Izayoi-sama, it is I," he said with a sweeping bow. "May I say you look as beautiful as ever?"

She smiled reflexively, as tears gently slid down her face. "Thank-you, Myoga-san. I feared ... when I didn't see you for so long ... I thought, perhaps you had died... with him..."

The flea made a gesture with both left arms. "Ah, my lady—I fear I lost my hold before he attacked: by the time I arrived, the roof had collapsed, and you had vanished. I had duties to perform, and then I, er, found myself the focus of the Inu no Taisho's son's ire. I—it was necessary to be ... elsewhere, for a while."

"Sesshomaru-sama dropped in once when Inuyasha was still a baby," she told the flea. "He left, rather quickly."

"Really?" The flea's eyes widened. "He left, without arguing? I'm surprised he left any of you alive!"

"Who's Sess-Sesshomaru?" interjected Inuyasha.

"Later." Izayoi held her attention on Myoga. "He was angry, but my words were—persuasive. He has not been back."

Myoga sighed, relieved. "I'm so glad to hear that. He is so angry, and wants so badly what he mustn't have."

Her lips thinned for a moment. "Mama," interrupted her son again, "who's Sesshomaru?"

She reached out to place a finger over his lips. "After the servants go to bed, all right? Now, they'll be bringing supper soon: why don't you show Myoga your things?"

He brightened. "Ok! Come on, Myoga!" He scampered to the screen that hid his own special space from the rest of the room. The flea looked at her, concerned.

"Don't be seen, Myoga," she mouthed. The flea's eyes narrowed, then widened in understanding. She smiled sadly, as he leaped off to chase after Inuyasha. She was glad he was here, even if he did make sad memories greener, even if he did—if seen—increase the chances that her brother would persuade their father to turn her out. Her son so badly needed a friend…

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This piece references Chapter 3 of "Ice and Steel" ("The Keenest Blade"). This piece was written for an image prompt for the I-B-4-Y LiveJournal community (a pair of braziers). It was originally posted on July 27, 2011. It took second place. (10/22/2011)


	4. Brother

This chapter was moved to the short story "Izayoi's Return," chapter 2.

This text replaces the original text, to keep links on other sites to various chapters of this collection from being broken.

Text is moved because of the site requirements that stories not be duplicated.


	5. Second Skirmish

This chapter was moved to the short story "Izayoi's Return," chapter 3.

This text replaces the original text, to keep links on other sites to various chapters of this collection from being broken.

Text is moved because of the site requirements that stories not be duplicated.


	6. Drumbeat

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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><p><strong>Drumbeat<strong>

She had grown up with the drums, daughter of a poor domain with more foes than friends as neighbors. Once, she had felt intoxicated by the throbbing beats, had wanted to be one of those who protected the family and lands. When she had practiced with the naginata, or listened to the tales, she had dreamed of glory.

Now, the rhythm which signified notice of a raiding party, summoning all within range to withdraw to the palace, caused Izayoi to pale. Her few years with her beloved, her years as mistress of a stronghold that had been open to those fleeing war, had disillusioned her fantasies. She had heard too many stories of horror, seen too many bodies riven by youkai claws or human weapons, to have any illusions that war was anything but a cause of pain and suffering.

Disillusionment did not stop her from leaping towards the corner where her naginata rested. Her hands wrestled with her obi, then pulled off her robes with studied haste. Stripped of her silks, she reached for practical linen and cotton, thoughts full of determination. That moment when Takemaru had betrayed confidences and invaded her stronghold, she had been helpless, caught in the throes of childbirth. But, for her lord, she and Inuyasha would have died at Takemaru's hands.

She meant never to be that helpless again.

"Mama. Mama."

Inserting her knife through the sash of her hakama, Izayoi turned. Grinning with delight, Inuyasha marched towards her, arms extended for balance, his small, clawed feet marching in perfect time to the drums. "'Yasha dance! Fun!"

Izayoi's breath caught, pained and dismayed to see her toddler so innocently moving to the insistent drumbeats. But, she would not shadow that innocent grin, and so she kneeled, smiled, hugged him and praised him.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was written for the prompt "March", for the I-B-4-Y LiveJournal Community. It was originally posted on March 26th, 2012. It won the contest. (6/10/2012)


	7. Writing Names

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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><p><strong>Writing Names<strong>

Inuyasha inspected the shiny, black puddle of liquid, rubbing his nose to prevent a sneeze. "Did I do it right?" he asked, looking up at Izayoi who was seated at a small desk.

She smiled at him. "Shall we see?" Picking up a brush with her right hand, and holding back the voluminous sleeve with her left, she leaned forward to reach the small bowl in which the young boy had been painstakingly mixing ink from inkstick and water. Dipping the brush, and smoothing away the excess, she drew a curving line on a piece of scrap paper. "Just right," she said. "Now, what shall I write?"

"Your name! I want to see your name, mama!"

Moving the bowl onto the desk, Izayoi dipped the brush, and carefully drew the simple characters of her name. Inuyasha stood up on his knees to get a better look.

"That spells 'mama'?" he asked, when she set the brush down.

"No, it spells 'Izayoi.' That's my name."

"I-za-yoi!" he repeated slowly, grinning. "I like your name!"

She laughed, then pulled the paper away as he reached for it. "Ah ah ah—clean your hands, first." Taking a damp rag, she leaned forward and scrubbed the spot on his face. While he concentrated on cleaning his hands, Izayoi took a second paper and swiftly brushed three characters. When he looked up, she displayed that page. "Here's your name."

"Inu-ya-sha! I like my name, too!"

Izayoi smiled, pleased.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This piece was written for the prompt "Puddle," and posted to the LiveJournal community "Inuyasha FanFic Contest" on February 7th, 2012. It won the contest.


	8. Hanyo's Mother

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This takes place some days after the story told in "Izayoi's Return."

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><p><strong>Hanyo's Mother<strong>

She was nursing when she heard him enter. She heard Matsumi and others remonstrating; heard their cries as they were shoved aside. She stood. Inuyasha stopped nursing, whined, and sank his claws into her clothing, ears flat. Holding him with one hand, she straightened her clothes, reaching into her obi.

"You are not welcome here, elder brother," she said, as she heard him stop. "Please leave."

"I came to take the trash," he said. "Perhaps when it is destroyed, your senses will return, little sister."

"Your so-called trash is my treasure, elder brother. Do not provoke me."

"I will take it by force, if I have to, Izayoi." She heard the growing tension and anger, and the creak of his armor. "I will save you from yourself—"

Izayoi whirled. He gasped, going rigid as the tip of her knife pierced armor and pricked skin. Cold eyes met his.

"My lord wished me never to be unarmed. Your armor is as paper.."

Horror and shock. "You would shed family blood?"

"Never willingly. But, I protect my son." Her hand was steady. "Persuade father that Inuyasha's presence poses too much danger, and I will leave. But, no one takes my son from me."

Tears glittered, unshed. "Little sister. What have you become?"

"A taiyoukai's lover and a hanyo's mother. Do not think that you can 'save' me from what I am."

They stood there, frozen: woman, man, and babe. Until finally, eyes despairing, he stepped back, bowed, and left.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was written for the prompt "One Mans' Trash..." for the Inuyasha FanFiction Contest community on LiveJournal. It was originally posted on March 3, 2012. It took second place. (1/4/2013)


	9. To Be A Warrior

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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><p><strong>To Be A Warrior<strong>

_Swish._

"Take that!"

_Swish._

"And that!"

_Swish._

"Heya!"

_Swish thunk._

Izayoi walked in as the stick slammed into the tatami mat, leaving a dent. She hid her wince. "What are you doing, Inuyasha?"

"Practicing, mama! Like grandpa's samurai! I want to be a warrior!"

She fought to keep her gentle smile. "You shouldn't practice here, Inuyasha. You could break something."

"I'm careful!" An indignant look.

Izayoi sank down on the nearest pillow. "May I see?"

Pride and worry warred on Inuyasha's face as Izayoi examined the stick. It did look remarkably like a sword. "You made this?"

"Yep!" Inuyasha beamed. "I carved it with my claws!"

Izayoi nodded, unsurprised. Inuyasha's last enthusiasm had been for woodcarving.

"Very nice." She handed it back to him. "Still, you mustn't practice inside."

"But, where, mama? Everyone throws things if they see me outside, and you don't like my sneaking out to the forest!"

Izayoi sighed again, trying not to let tears rise. Her little boy wanted to be a warrior—no surprise there: it was in his blood from both sides. And he would need to be one, for who would protect him after she died? But, who would teach him?

"You will practice in the inner court, with me." She would lose her remaining sparring partner, for the woman was only there on her father's order now, and Inuyasha's presence would give her the excuse she needed to demand the order be rescinded.

His happy reaction made the sacrifice worth it.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This piece was written for the prompt 'Stick', for the Inuyasha Fanfic Contest community on LiveJournal. It was originally posted on August 14th, 2012. It took first place. (01/25/2012)


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